


Broken Crown

by Lmere



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lmere/pseuds/Lmere
Summary: Beth's back.Sequel toCatalyst. Don't need to have read, but events are referred to during the first chapter (and possibly others too).Will update to a more informative summary when I have one!





	1. Lost and Found

           It was a good day, until the phone call. I laughed with the guys, banter slipping easily back and forth between us. Even Jon's minor episode in the bathroom didn't bring me down, I just sat on the floor outside the closed door and talked to him for half an hour until he came out again. Ajay's sister came to visit him, a woman so short I was pretty sure I was twice her height, but with a nice face, and a quiet manner. I had handed over to Mitchell, who had the night shift, gathered up my things and stepped outside when my phone rang. Transferring my bag to my other hand, I dug in my pocket and pulled it out, smiling at the number on the screen.

            "Hi," I said.

            There was a pause. "Hi."

            I stopped halfway down the steps at his tone. Dumping my stuff beside me, I sat down on the cold bricks. "What's wrong?"

            He gave a sharp breath, then was silent. I closed my eyes, picturing him looking around an undefined room, but didn't say anything, waiting for him to speak. "Peggy is dead," he said eventually.

            I hung my head. Suddenly, the bricks didn't seem nearly as cold as my chest. "Oh, Bucky, I'm so sorry." We were both silent for a second. "Are you okay?"

            Bucky had an ambivalent noise in his throat.

            "And Steve?"

            "Worse," he admitted.

            I sighed sadly. I knew who Peggy Carter was... had been. I'd spent an unhealthy, and possibly creepy, amount of time on Google after my rather close encounter with Steve, Bucky, Bucky's other half, various other members of the Avengers, and Hydra. And Bucky had called me after he'd gone with Steve to see Peggy for the first time. Either way, I knew this must have hit them both hard, probably harder than Bucky was letting on.

            "Keep him company," I suggested, "as much as he'll let you." Bucky snorted lightly, humming in agreement. "You sure you're okay?"

            "Yeah, it was just... it was a shock that she was even still around. I expected everyone to be dead, and now... now everyone is. It's just the two of us left."

            "Lucky you have each other then," I reminded him, and was rewarded with a slight chuckle.

            "That we are," he agreed, then sighed again. "We're going over to England for the funeral. Will you come?"

            My heart leapt at the thought of going home. I loved America, but I'd grown up on the other side of the pond, and it still felt like home. At least there I didn't have to check my sentences for words to translate. I would be able to say 'pavement' again. But I pushed those thoughts aside as I considered what Bucky was really asking me.

            "I'll come with you," I said carefully. "But I don't think I should go to the actual service, Bucky. I didn't know her, it's not my place. But I'll be there when you go in, and when you come out."

            "Okay, fair enough," Bucky said, after a slight pause. "Steve's going across a bit earlier, I'll be heading off next Tuesday, if you want a lift."

            "Sure, but don't think about that now, Bucky. Take some time, remember her. Grieve. And don't let Steve try to get drunk."

            Bucky gave a slight laugh again. "I still don't think he can, but I'll do my best to end any experiments early."

            "Good. Have some cake or something instead."

            "Will do. Can I call you again later?"

            "Any time, you know that."

            "Yeah, I know. Bye, Beth."

            "Bye, Bucky. Stay safe."

            "You too." He hung up. For a minute I didn't move, just sat on the steps, staring at nothing. Poor Bucky. Poor Steve. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like, to find a link to their past, and now they'd had it ripped from them. They did have each other though.

            "I know that face."

            I jumped, not having noticed someone approach from the other side of the railings. Joey vaulted easily over the barrier and paced down a few steps to look at me.

            "That's your Bucky face," he continued shrewdly. "How is he?"

            I sighed, giving Joey a sad smile. "Peggy Carter has died," I said. Joey's face fell.

            "May she know peace," he murmured quietly. "How are they taking it?"

            I shrugged. "Harder on Steve, I think."

            "He'll get through it. Soldier, that one," Joey said.

            I gave a crooked smile. "You met him once," I pointed out.

            "Once is all it takes," Joey said, flashing a grin. "And the whole 'Captain' thing gives it away. He'll drink away his sorrows today and look fine tomorrow."

            "Bucky doesn't think he can get drunk."

            Joey shrugged. "Fine, we'll do it for him."

            I gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes.

            "Fine, we'll get drunk on hot-chocolate. Come on." He held out a hand and I took it with a smile, pulling myself to my feet against his steady weight.

            "Now that sounds like a plan," I said wearily.

 

            The sun was warm, emphasised by the reflected heat off the tarmac. Past the terminal, I watched a large white plane come coasting down and touchdown with a slight squeal, before heading inside and glancing around. There was no sign of the familiar figure anywhere, so I headed over towards the information desk, slipping around the crowds. I was only halfway there when I felt a light touch on my arm and turned sharply. Bucky stood with a grin on his face as he looked at me. His hair had grown since I'd last seen him, not to the same length it had been when we'd first met, but still long enough that he had it pushed to the sides of his face to expose his smile. My duffle hit the floor with a muffled thump as I held out my arms in time to catch his hug.

            Bucky let out a sigh as he dropped his head to my shoulder, and I chuckled, returning the increased pressure with my own grip.

            "Miss me?"

            " _I_ did," a grumpy voice answered, and I tried to suppress my laughter.

            "Hello, Puppet," I said wryly. "But Bucky didn't miss me, is that it?"

            "No, not at all. He couldn't care less."

            "Liar," I chuckled as he drew back with a wicked grin.

            "Maybe," he said slyly before his face grew more serious. "C'mon, let's move."

            We hurried through the terminal together, moving through the back corridors without being challenged, and emerged out onto the air field, where he grabbed my free hand and guided me off to the side, away from the main runways, nodding to people in orange vests as we passed them.

            "I missed you too," Bucky offered, once we were away from the worst of the noise.

            I laughed. "I know. How've you two been?"

            Bucky shrugged. "Fine. Getting better at sharing, for the most part. This is us," he said, nodding towards an open hanger.

            "Can you fly that thing?" I asked cautiously, coming to a halt as I looked at the large machine that looked nothing like an airplane.

            "Sure," Bucky said, "Natasha's been teaching me. I'm sure I can get us most of the way there."

            " _Most_ of the way?" I squawked.

            "Yeah. You can do the bit in the middle. I won't tell anyone if you don't," Bucky grinned.

            "Nu-uh. Not happening," I snorted, dropping my duffle and crossing my arms.

            He laughed. "Auto-pilot it is then."

            I groaned. "I'm going to die in the middle of the sea, and no one will ever know what happened."

            Bucky snorted. "Where's your faith?" he said, snatching up my bag and backing towards the aircraft, eyes challenging.

            I hoisted my back-pack higher on my shoulder and sighed dramatically before following him into the hanger.

            "Is it just us?" I asked as I followed Bucky up the back ramp, watching him stow my bag beside one that was obviously his.

            "Yep. Sam decided last minute to go earlier with Steve, and Natasha went the other way, with... Tony, to make a stop in Russia for something or other." The hesitation was barely noticeable, but it was definitely there.

            "How has it been with Tony?" I asked cautiously.

            Bucky hesitated, pausing as he made his way up to the cockpit. "As good as I could hope for," he said seriously, glancing back at me before taking a seat.

            "Woah," I said as I came up behind him, watching his hands flick over what looked like a million different buttons and switches. "What is this thing?"

            "Quinjet. Developed by Tony Stark, working in collaboration with SHIELD for more advanced aerial manoeuvrability, thanks to the ducted fans on the wings, in addition to scramjet engines on the tail. One of the less offensive models built before Project Insight," Puppet rattled off.

            "Huh. Walking encyclopaedia much?" I snorted, and Puppet flashed a grin back to me, Bucky's hands faltering until his gaze snapped back in front.

            "Do you mind?" Bucky said grumpily. "I'm trying to fly this thing, you're not helping." There was a momentary pause, then Bucky snorted. " _No_ , I don't want you to fly it for me."

            I shook my head as I retreated. "Boys, let's not start arguing yet," I suggested amicably as I sat down. "We've got to cross the entire Atlantic ocean."

 

            Taking a deep breath, I held it in, then let it out very carefully, feeling the air waver as it passed my trembling lips. Another breath, in, hold, out. The sound of a single car engine grew steadily stronger and I looked to the left, through the heads of the silent crowd. Bucky looked straight back at me for a second before turning his eyes forwards again. Steve stood next to him, his face pale and unmoving, shining streaks visible down both cheeks. I looked away, turning my eyes ahead again as a black car rolled slowly into view, the large windows at the back showing huge arrangements of flowers, almost obscuring the coffin from view. Suddenly I had to look up to the sky, taking a deep breath before I could look back down again as the car stopped, my view mostly hidden by the people in front of me, though I could still see the roof over their head, and track the six men, including the two I knew, as they moved around to the back. There was utter silence as they raised the coffin, covered with a Union Jack, onto their shoulders, moving steadily as one unit to bear it solemnly into the cathedral behind us, and the doors swung shut. With a sad sigh, I stood for a moment, then slipped through the crowd, crossing the road and moving through the throng that had also congregated there, until I reached the relative peace of the trees surrounding the edge of the small strip of park. All then benches I could see were taken, but I just put my back against a tree and linked my hands behind me, examining my feet as I waited, my thoughts moving slowly through grey-tinged sadness.

 

            "Beth? Beth Jones?"

            I jumped, turning away from the cathedral I'd been throwing sporadic glances at, looking back to where the voice had come from, and finding a tall woman with long, light brown hair, and a face that jolted something inside me. For a second, I just stared, frowning as I struggled to place her. Then it clicked.

            "Hannah?" I asked cautiously.

            "Yeah! Hi, fancy seeing you here!"

            "Yeah, amazing," I said slowly, wondering if I could just walk away. Hannah had been at school with me. To call us friends would have been more than a stretch. "How've you been?"

            "Good, good. Working at the Independent, here to cover the funeral," she beamed, flicking the little badge pinned to her jacket, proclaiming PRESS in obnoxiously large letters. "What are you doing here?"

            "Moral support. For a friend," I said evasively. "So, journalist, huh?"

            "Yep! What about you, what are you doing now?"

            "Therapist," I said, after a moment imagining trying to explain my actual job.

            "Oh wow. Solving everyone else's problems, huh?" she laughed, then her gaze snapped up over my head. "Oooo, gotta dash! Great to see you again!" She was gone in a flash of blue linen and high heels.

            I blinked at the space where she'd been, then shook my head. "You too!" I said, sarcasm dripping from my words. Turning, I saw what had taken her away; the door of the cathedral were open, and people were starting to filter out, each face bearing the signs of grief. With a sigh, I leant back against my tree, watching each new face emerge.

            I saw Sam first, through a gap in the stream of people, looking back over his shoulder before people shifted and he was gone again. I knew the other two couldn't be far behind, and stood up straight, moving forwards to the edge of the pavement, balancing on my toes as I waited. It was another half a minute before Steve and Bucky came into sight, the former talking to a woman with pretty blonde hair, the latter scanning the crowd quickly until his eyes found me. His mouth twitched into a sad grimace, and he jerked his head. Looking both ways, I hurried across the road. Bucky touched Steve's arm gently before splitting away, moving aside as I joined him.

            "How was it?" I asked gently.

            He grimaced. "As expected, I guess." His arms twitched, but he glanced around and shoved them back in his pockets. I gave him a look. "People," he explained in a mutter.

            "So?" I pushed gently. He hesitated for another second, then stepped forwards and let me hug him, dropping his head to my shoulder. I leaned my head sideways onto his and closed my eyes briefly. "You'll be okay," I murmured, as he sighed, holding onto me for another second before straightening up.

            "Come meet Sharon," he suggested, moving back towards Steve, and I followed with slight trepidation. Steve and the blonde woman both turned as we approach, and Sam appeared from nowhere at the same time.

            "Beth, this is Sharon, Peggy's great-niece," Bucky said. "Sharon, Beth."

            " _The_ Beth?" Sharon asked, with raised eyebrows, and I blinked.

            "The Beth," Sam confirmed, grinning at me. "And not wearing jeans. Are you ill?"

            "Bite me," I shot sourly at him before turning back to Sharon. "Very nice to meet you, but I've never been called 'the' anything."

            "Sorry," she said with a smile, and I warmed to her a little. "I heard you helped bring in Rumlow. We all owe you for that."

            I felt my smile become brittle, and Bucky stiffened beside me. We'd had a bit of a fight over that particular incident. "As I recall it, I didn't contribute very much at all, I'm afraid, unless you count get beaten up a little," I said, feeling a sudden flash of pain through my body. I still had scars from that incident, though the bullet wound in my shoulder hadn't pained me in several months now.

            "Every part counts," Sharon said, and I chuckled.

            "I'll remember that. I'm sorry for your loss."

            "Thank you," Sharon nodded. "Aunt Peggy was an amazing woman."

            "I've heard a lot about her, she certainly sounds like she was," I smiled.

            Everything changed very fast. There was a huge flash of white light from behind me, and cries of shock on all sides. A blast of wind blasted past us all as the light faded, and Bucky, Steve and I all turned. A circle of scorched grass showed where the disturbance had emanated from and people backing away on all sides, most blinded by the flash. In the very centre of the blast, were two figures, and one was looking directly at me. He was young, very young, with dark wavy hair to his ears, and he stared at me for a full second before crumpling to the ground. The other figure, who'd been facing him, turned. More dark hair, straight, to his shoulders, framed a pale face and angular chin. He didn't even glance at me, but looked straight at Steve, then back down at the prone body at his feet. The young boy had fallen with his face towards me, and I watched blood drip from his nose.

            "Well, I think we need to work on your definition of 'safe'," the man said.


	2. Too Many New Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Beccatt for their comments, and to UndeadFairie, MajorsDarlin27, and the 1 guest who've left kudos.

            The world was chaos, transformed in a worryingly short space of time. People were shouting, running away from the blast, knocking into each other in their haste to flee. Bucky, of course, was doing the opposite, keeping pace just behind Steve, both looking feral as they moved forwards with an animalistic quality to their steps.

            "Beth, get back!" Sam shouted suddenly in my ear, dragging me backwards by the wrist, but I shook him off, still staring at the crumpled figure on the ground.

            "He looked at me," I whispered, twisting my wrist for the second time as Sam continued to try and pull me back. The second man had also dropped to his knees, hands hovering uncertainly over his fallen companion, completely ignoring Bucky and Steve as they bore down upon the pair.

            "Don't move!" Steve was shouting, and the man looked back at him with a weary expression, and I took in his whole face for the first time. His hair was lank and messy, his skin grimy and pale, dark rings around his sunken eyes. He looked a mess, but I still recognised him.

            "Holy crap on a cracker," I gasped, one of my knees giving out and sending me lurching sideways, emphasised by the shockwave of something red streaking past me. Tony Stark, encased in his distinctive Iron Man armour, thrust both hands out in front of him to slow himself, and blasted the God of Mischief straight in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. I flinched, jerking away, but turned back to watch as Steve stepped over the prone figure and continued to advance on Loki, Bucky sparing only a single glance for the unconscious boy before following. I looked backwards, towards Sam, who was looking grim, and Sharon beyond him, who'd take cover in the porch of the cathedral and was talking fast on her phone. In the other direction, I could make out a glint of red hair as Natasha ran towards the group, and a flash of metal in the sky, no doubt another suit of Tony's. They were all converging on Loki. It was about to become a war zone. Gritting my teeth, I chose the stupid option for the second time my life and raced forwards, hoping this one would turn out as positively as the last time.

            I skidded slightly on the grass as I fell into a crouch beside the unconscious figure, who seemed even smaller close up, my fingers going to his neck, searching for a pulse as I glanced up nervously to check what the others were doing, and immediately found green eyes locked onto mine. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at a being that was essentially a God, and he looked right back at me.

            "Help him."

            I couldn't actually hear the words, but I could read them on his lips, and in his eyes, just as my fingers found the steady movement in the boy's throat. Bucky looked back at Loki's words, his face twitching as he saw me. With a slight twinge of guilt, I looked back down at the boy, unable to call him anything else so close to his young face. There was still rivets of fresh blood running from his nose, and close up, I could see more red mixed in with his black hair around his ears. I swallowed. My medical knowledge was shaky, but to me, that meant something wrong with his brain, and even if I was wrong, it couldn't be anything good. I hesitated, crouched over his prone body, unsure if I should move him, and reluctant to try. Risking another glance up, I found the others in a stalemate, hesitant to blast Loki again when he wasn't giving them so much as a threatening look, but unable to look away for suspicion of what he would do behind their backs. I turned the other way, and beckoned Sam towards me, not watching his cautious approach as I whipped out my phone, punching in the three identical digits before bringing it to my ear.

            "Well, I would say it's nice to see you again, except... y'know, it's not," Tony said, still with both his hands trained on Loki, his distorted voice reaching me even as I rattled off mindless answers to the emergency line.

            "You don't understand..." Loki began, his voice low but pleading.

            "Don't care to either," Steve said. "We understand plenty."

            "No! Listen to me..."

            "I don't think so," Tony cut him off. "Did you think we'd just forget what you did? Should have waited a lot longer for that. We don't have to listen to a single word out of your lying mouth."

            I glanced up in the silent that followed, shocked by the intensity with which Loki was staring up at Tony, and by Bucky's twisted expression. I filed that away for later as Loki's eyes flickered down to me, then back up again.

            "Fine, don't listen to me, just save him," Loki said quickly, his gaze returning to me. "Save him," he repeated.

            "Beth!" Sam said sharply, and I shook myself, returning my focus to him, and the boy between us. Right, focused. Boy potentially dying. I flipped my phone onto speaker, letting Sam listen in as the operator tried to give advice that I wasn't listening to, trying to keep track of the pulse under my fingers. The world exploded for a second time.

            Ignoring the stream of swear words running through my head, and deciding that my new goal in life was to distance myself as much as possible from all things avenger-related (Bucky excluded), I braced myself, thrown off balance by the rush of air from behind me, not looking round until the bright wavering light had faded. I had to blink as a worryingly large man came striding straight past me, his red cape billowing rather over-dramatically. Steve practically jumped backwards as the newcomer strode through their midst. A hammer was just visible from the other side of the his body made me realise just who had joined us, and I swallowed, just in time to have it turn to a stifled scream as said hammer swung out and caught Loki under the chin. Sam grabbed my shoulder at my noise, but I'd already bitten my lip, though couldn't help wincing as Loki literally flew backwards, rolling twice as he hit the ground, but coming back up to his feet, face dark as Thor strode towards him.

            "Brother," Loki said, backing again.

            "Do not call me that right now," Thor growled. "What were you thinking? Why now Loki? What in Hel happened?"

            Loki looked away, past his brother, towards me, Sam and the boy between us. "He happened." Everyone turned towards us, and my hands tightened, choosing to focus on Bucky's face.

            Thor pushed his way through the group, looking even taller close up. Sam moved backwards to give him a clear view, but I held my ground, though I avoided Thor's eyes. Stubborn I might be, but I wasn't going to try and provoke a god who could squish me into mush in 2 seconds flat, and that was if I ran fast. But I didn't back away from the unconscious boy.

            "You know who he is?" Steve asked, eyes flicking between Thor's expression of confusion and me and my charge.

            Thor shook his head. "No," he said blankly. "You should step away miss."

            I stared at him, raising my eyebrows.

            "If he's caught my brother's attention, he could be dangerous," Thor elaborated.

            "He's unconscious," I pointed out. "Kinda caps the danger potential."

            "Beth—" Sam started from behind me, but broke off as Thor took a step forwards.

            "You should move away," he said, and I swallowed, but didn't move an inch. Thor seemed to sigh, then strode forwards purposefully. I tensed, but someone else moved faster, putting themselves between Thor and myself with a flash of silver metal. With his back to me, I couldn't see Bucky's face, but Steve withdrew a little, and even Natasha's face got tighter.

            "Why don't you deal with your brother?" Bucky suggested tightly. "Who seems to have given you the slip already." Everyone turned, and I looked through the many legs in front of me, but failed to find the dark figure who'd been there only moments before. Thor cursed, but most of it was drowned out by the approaching siren, growing louder with every second until an ambulance came into view.

            "LOKI!" Thor thundered, and the paramedics climbing out of the ambulance jumped a little, giving him a fleeting stare before turning their attention towards me and hurrying over. For them, I moved back out of the way, letting them through to the boy, knowing the were far more qualified than I was to help him. Grabbing my phone off the ground, out of harm’s way, I stood up, wincing as my knees cracked, and stepped over closer to Bucky, who avoided looking at me.

            “You alright?” I asked. “Little jumpy there.”

            He winced slightly, but didn’t apologise, his jaw set. “I…” he began, but seemed unable to finish.

            “It’s okay,” I said. “I appreciate the gesture, just want to make sure you’re okay.” He nodded, but as his face relaxed, he looked a little lost, glancing around, where everyone was searching for a sign of Loki, then back to the boy behind us. I followed his gaze, squeezing his elbow briefly before returning to hover over the paramedics.

            “Are you family?” One of them asked, glancing up at me.

            I shook my head. “Bystander.”

            “What happened?”

            I looked down at the boy, at the blood continuing to drip from his ears. “Not a clue,” I said, shaking my head.

            “You called the ambulance?” they asked, and I nodded. “Good job. That was the right thing to do. Well done.” They turned away, working together to shift the limp body onto a stretcher, and preparing to lift him.

            “Can I come with him?” I asked.

            “You’ve done all you can, best that we take it from here,” the second one said gently, and I bowed my head, ready to step back, until Bucky pressed forwards, his metal arm clearly on display, and cleared his throat.

            “Sorry to interrupt, but you would be doing a great many people a favour if you allowed her to stay with him,” he said, but I had to look down to keep my face smooth, battling against snorts of laughter.

            “Sir, we’re just trying to do our jobs.”

            “And I’m just trying to save lives,” Bucky returned, with a hint of sharpness. Glancing up, I watched them glare at each other, neither willing to back down. “Unless,” Bucky added, looking over his shoulder, “you’d prefer one of us came along?” I didn’t need to look to know what the paramedic would see, and once again had to bite my lip at the implications of Bucky’s threat, trying not to picture Tony in his suit inside an ambulance.

            “Fine,” the paramedic snapped, turning his now irritated gaze on me. “Stay out of the way.” I nodded in silent acquiescence, hanging back a little as they picked up the stretcher between them and began making their way back to the curb-side. I shoved my phone into my pocket before going to follow, until Bucky said my name, and I turned.

            “Call me,” he said, seriously, and I nodded before hurrying after the paramedics, leaving him to go and join the hunt for Loki. I almost hoped he would stay hidden for a little while longer, distracting Thor from the mysterious boy.

            Climbing into the front of the ambulance on the only mildly grumpy instruction of the paramedic, I glanced only once at the driver before looking back over my shoulder as the doors shut behind the boy, who’s dark hair I could just see over the end of the stretcher. I faced forwards again as we moved off, gripping the seat tightly, jaw set as I avoiding looking across to where Steve, Bucky and the others were reconverging, unsuccessful in their search.

            Traffic parted before us, encouraged by the blues-and-twos that blared outside, luckily muted a little by the closed doors. A flicker of green light in the corner of my eye made me look round sharply, but all I could see was the reflecting of the vehicle in a glass window. Taking another breath, I glanced again at the boy. Who was he? Where had he come from? And why had he been staring at me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, was waiting on some research for the last part, which I'm still not 100% on, so apologies for any offence to my fellow UK residents with more experience.
> 
> A few answers perhaps, mainly just building up a little. Hope you enjoyed, I love comments!


	3. Captain England

            Hospitals are rarely nice places to be, more for the situations that land people there than the places themselves. Looking around, I watched the other people, trying not to guess at the reasons why they were here, and failing. Working at the VA had me in the habit of trying to predict people's problems, practising to find words that might give them comfort. The couple with blank stares, I thought probably had a problem with their child, something urgent enough to bring them to A&E. There was a little boy in the other corner, playing with toy cars under the watchful eye of a woman who was probably his grandmother. Something wrong with his parents maybe?

            My phone buzzed silently in my pocket, and I pulled myself upright on the seat, my spine cracking as I extracted my phone from my pocket.

            _On my way to you. B._

            _Kk. C u soon._

            I fired the reply off quickly, then slumped back down in the hard plastic chair. I'd sent him a text almost as soon as we'd arrived, telling him which hospital we'd come to. I expected he'd passed it on to Steve at least, and was trying not to worry about how much further it might have gone. Bucky was both subtle and cautious, but was also learning to trust. The last thing either of us needed was for the hospital to become overwhelmed with Avengers for one kid because he'd shared information to people he should be able to trust. Leaning my head back against the wall, I closed my eyes, crossing my arms and let my thoughts run on in their wild circles, opening one eyes any time someone went past.

            It was twenty minutes before a peak through my eyelids at approaching footsteps showed me a familiar figure, and I opened my eyes fully at once, sitting up, my back clicking again.

            "Wow, I heard that from the other side of the room," Bucky said, as he dropped into the chair next to me. "Chairs that uncomfortable?"

            "Not really, guess I'm just getting old," I grinned.

            He snorted. "Right. Any news?"

            I shook my head. "Nothing. Not even sure how much they could tell. It's not like we're his kin."

            Bucky hummed. "Get Steve to put on his 'expectant' face. That should get it out of them."

            I snorted. "I look forward to that. Is he coming now?"

            "Think so."

            "Any luck finding Loki?"

            "Nope. Disappeared like an alley cat."

            "Huh," I said, leaning my head back against the wall. "Guess he's not the trickster for nothing."

            "Say what?"

            I waved a hand. "Never mind. My sister had a mythology book when we were kids." I shifted on the chair and my back clicked again.

            "Which of us is 100 years old?" Bucky asked with a snort, and I stuck my tongue out at him without opening my eyes. "I didn't know you had a sister," Bucky said after another moment, and I was suddenly glad my eyes were closed.

            "I don't anymore," I said, and my voice didn't waver.

            A hand closed around one of mine, giving a brief squeeze. "Sorry," Bucky said, and my mouth twitched into a pained smile.

            "Thanks." I cracked an eyelid at last. "You alright here?" I asked, to change the subject. He was on alert, eyes scanning constantly, but seemed no tenser than he normally was.

            "What d'ya mean?"

            "Lots of the vets don't like hospitals. Bad memories."

            Bucky shook his head, quirking half a smile at me. "I'm good."

            I nodded, closing my eyes again, but before I could do more than remember a few particularly dramatic instances, a little voice spoke from my right.

            "Excuse me?"

            I sat up, and we both looked round to see the boy I'd noticed earlier, still with a little car clutched in his hands, staring wide-eyed at Bucky.

            "Are you..." he bit his lip, eyes darting. Looking at him properly, I revised my assessment of his age up a little, probably just about to start secondary school. "Are you Bucky Barnes?" My eyebrows rose, and I turned to look at Bucky, wondering how he wanted to handle this. He seemed as stunned as I was, blinking a few times at the boy.

            "Um, yeah, I am?"

            "Can I have your autograph?" the kid blurted out, then glanced down at his feet, peeking back up to gauge Bucky's reaction. "I want to get all the Avengers," he said, by way of an explanation.

            Bucky blinked again. "Sure," he said. "You got paper?"

            The kid's face fell, and I chuckled. "I've got some," I said, digging into my bag and handing Bucky a pen while I ripped a page from the notebook hidden at the bottom, carried more from habit than necessity now.

            "What's your name?" Bucky asked, as he took the paper from me, leaning on the rest of the book.

            "James," the kid said, and Bucky blinked, faltering a little. "I want to be a hero when I grow up. I'm going to be Captain England!"

            Bucky smiled. "I'm sure you will," he promised, pen moving quickly before he handed the paper to the kid, who took it with wide eyes.

            "Thank you!" he cried, and was gone, running back to his grandmother, waving it over his head. Bucky and I exchanged bemused glances, but more footsteps drew our attention up, and we both came to our feet as Steve and Sam both came striding towards us.

            "I hate London," Sam said grumpily, by way of greeting. I laughed.

            "You got lost, didn't you?" I chuckled, and his scowl broadened.

            "Your roads make no sense," he accused me.

            "They're not _my_ roads," I pointed out, still grinning.

            "I'm still blaming you," he grumbled, and I shook my head.

            "Any news?" Steve asked.

            "Nada," I said. "Unless you count the revelation that 'waiting room chairs are uncomfortable' as news." Steve just blinked, and I rolled my eyes. "Remind me never to joke around you," I muttered. Bucky rolled his eyes.

            "Steve, come meet James," he said, pulling Steve away towards the little boy eagerly, who looked up in confusion and then froze in awe struck horror. I shook my head as I turned back to Sam.

            "Who's that?" he asked, frowning across the waiting room.

            "A mini fan," I explained, stepping the other way, drawing him with me towards the wall, out of the way. "I don't think we're going to get anywhere here by asking nicely," I said, dropping my voice. "None of us are related to that kid, they don't have to tell us anything."

            Sam nodded speculatively. "Not even if Captain America asks nicely?" I gave him a look, and he shrugged. "Yeah, I know," he grumbled, eyes fixed in the mid distance as he thought. "Could make a few calls, get a doctor on our side, try to persuade them."

            "Yeah, but that'll only hold up for so long if Thor comes barging in here barking about how dangerous he is again," I pointed out. "Did he say anything more?"

            Sam shook his head. "Just that if his brother is interested in him, it can't mean anything good." He squeezed my arm. "I'm gonna talk to some people, make some calls, see if I can get us anything." I nodded distractedly, glancing back over my shoulder. "See if you can get them out of here," Sam advised. "It's been a long day. I'll see you guys back at the hotel." He turned and walked away towards the counter, smiling wearily at the receptionist as he leaned forwards to talk. Turning back the other way, I watched Steve and Bucky for a moment, smiling fondly as I watched them pose with little James between them for a picture. A few words later, they both shook the little boy's hand solemnly and came back towards me. Steve, spying the back of Sam's busy head, sped up, making to move past me, but I put out an arm for him to walk into, giving him a hard look when he opened his mouth.

            "He's got it," I said simply. "I think it's time we take off." I let my eyes flicker to Bucky, not caring if Steve took it as a hint. "Let's go back to the hotel and have a drink before getting some shut-eye." Steve opened his mouth again, but I cut him off. "If anything happens, I'm pretty sure you're top of everyone's list to call." I turned my eyes to Bucky, judging his reaction, pleased when he nodded, face tired.

 

We got back to the hotel without incident, me taking the lead, map firmly in my mind's eye, and Bucky talking with Steve from behind me. Inside, I headed straight into the bar area.

            "Go find a table?" I suggested to Steve, and he nodded, heading off to a corner as I caught Bucky's arm. "You drinking at the moment?" I asked quietly.

            He nodded. "Doesn't do much," he shrugged, and I nodded.

            "Go keep him company," I said, nodding to Steve, who'd become quieter with every step of the way back. "I'll be over in a second." He did so, heading off to Steve's side as I went over to the bar, leaning on the counter as I waited, then put in my slightly odd request, to which the bartender shrugged but obliged.

            Less than a minute later, I carried three shot glasses filled with clear liquid carefully over to the table, spreading them out and pushing Steve's and Bucky's towards them, and meeting their eyes.

            "To Peggy," I said simply. Steve and Bucky raised their glasses, and we all drank, hand and fast. We stood there for another minute, lost in our own thoughts, before Steve stood, walking away without a look back, head hanging. Bucky and I watched him go sadly, then exchanged a glance.

            "He might need you," I said, as I too pushed to my feet.

            Bucky nodded. "I'll be there." He nodded towards the third glass in front of me on the table. "I thought you didn't drink."

            I pushed the glass, now empty of the water it had contained, towards him as I turned and walked away, heading upstairs to my little room, and curling up, events of the day running through my mind, with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I get a whoop for fast(er) updates?  
> Apologies for any mistakes, they're all mine, no beta for this. You know where credit goes.
> 
> A couple of recommendations....
> 
> [Changed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10031321/chapters/22357007)
> 
> \- A post-CW work that I'm actually hooked on. Only a start so far, but I have high hopes
> 
>    
>  [IWriteSinsNotEssaysOk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteSinsNotEssaysOk/pseuds/IWriteSinsNotEssaysOk/works)
> 
> \- this girl is an awesome writer, and the sweetest thing ever. I'm betaing for her (shows how highly I regard her work), and she could use some love. Go leave a comment on her stuff. Pls? Especially "I See You"
> 
> There will be more to come :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Panda Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, long time, I know. Sorry. Also, lost track of who I owe thanks to. So just going to assume it's everyone. It's late here.

            The morning came before I was ready for it, but I dragged myself up and found a text from only a few minutes earlier, probably what had woken me, though I hadn't realised it. It was from Sam, sent to most everyone, to meet downstairs. I dressed, hoping the meeting would involve breakfast, and closed my eyes in the lift as I descended. When the little bell dinged at me, I stepped out and prowled through the lobby until I saw a familiar group of people, one slightly removed from the circle. I moved up beside Bucky, and one glance at both him and then across at Sam confirmed my suspicions.

            "Hey," I said gently. "You okay?"

            Puppet shrugged, in the way that only he could, the tense expression only just fitting on Bucky's face. "He needed a break."

            I nodded, accepting the rough explanation. "See if you can get him to listen into this at least," I said, turning slightly so I bridged the gap between him and the rest of the group. A blond woman on her phone turned around, ending the call as she moved to join us, and I realised it was Sharon Carter, from the funeral the previous day. She exchanged a glance with Sam, who spoke first.

            "Hospital is talking to us," he said, without preamble. "The boy is still unconscious, they don't know why, or what happened. There's a guard on his door."

            "He's a child," I said quietly.

            "Who appeared out of nowhere with a being who has a history here," Sharon pointed out, and I looked away.

            "We're not making judgements," Sam said. "But we needed to keep an eye on him, possibly for his own protection." He glanced across at Sharon. "Any leads on Loki?"

            She shook her head. "None. Dr Selvig is set up in a lab a couple of miles away, and we've linked him up to as much as we can get access to, so hopefully, he'll be able to work some science."

            "Thor's gone back to Asgard," Steve spoke up, "something about a watcher, and getting answers, so we'll see what he comes back with."

            "Anyone heard from Stark?" Sharon asked, and there were shaken heads from all around. "Romanoff?"

            "She's looking into contacts, putting out feelers to try and find other leads on Loki," Bucky spoke up unexpected, and I looked across at him, surprised to see a level of emotional expression that would never be found under Puppet's influence. Apparently, he was back.

            "Right," Sam nodded. "I guess that's our first priority, locate the dangerous psycho-maniac." There were snorts and amused looks in equal measures.

            "Food first," Bucky suggested, and immediately split off towards the breakfast buffet that had been set out. Steve chuckled, shaking his head, but following.

            "Sam," I muttered, sidling over to him, "I'm going to head back to the hospital, keep an eye on the boy, try to stay up to date."

            He gave me a sideways look as the others drifted off, Steve after Bucky, Sharon back to her phone. "Okay, keep in touch, don't get attached, keep a distance," he warned. I gave him a look but said nothing as I walked purposefully away across the lobby.

            "Hey, Beth!" Bucky's voice stopped me, as nothing else could, and I turned my head to find him frowning over a basket of round brown object, shaped like hockey pucks. "What are these?"

            I couldn't stop myself grinning as I walked towards him. "Crumpets," I informed him, "and breakfast muffins."

            Steve blinked. "Those are _not_ muffins," he scoffed."Why have they got holes in?"

            I choked down a snigger. "The ones with holes are the crumpets," I said, "you toast them and eat them with butter, and Marmite if you like it. The muffins are the same ones you get in Eggs Benedict or Eggs Florentine."

            Steve and Bucky shared mildly terrified expressions. "What's Marmite?"

            My grin widened. The boy could wait another hour. This was going to be fun.

 

Captain America, it turned out, did not like Marmite. _At all_. It did mean that I got to finish off one of his crumpets, since he refused to touch it again, despite having only put marmite on one little corner. I smeared it lavishly over the rest and laughed as he shuddered while he loaded the rest of his crumpets with butter, stacking them in one hand before carrying them away.

            "You wanna try some?" I asked Bucky, holding out the little pot.

            He made a face. "After that? I doubt it," he muttered, looking over at Steve's retreating back.

            I snorted. "It's not that bad."

            Bucky just raised his eyebrows and took a defiant mouthful of bacon and eggs.

            "Are you okay?" I asked instead, changing the topic from breakfast condiments.

            "Sure," Bucky said, too lightly.

            I tilted my head to the side as I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? And that's why Puppet had to give you a break?"

            Bucky sighed.

            "Talk to me," I said.

            "It's just..." he trailed off, pushing the rest of his food around his plate. "I could have been on the other side of this. I _was_ on the other side."

            "And now you're on this side," I said firmly. "And everyone knows it." He didn't look up at me. "Look, Bucky, it's going to be okay, we're just trying to get information, to find out what Loki's doing. That's all."

            I leaned forwards, rapping two knuckles hard on the table, finally getting him to raise his eyes. "We just have to hope it will work out positively," I smiled.

            He sighed, but his mouth quirked and he nodded.

            I pushed to my feet. "I'm going to the hospital, in case our little mystery wakes up. You've got my number," I said sternly, looking down at him. "If you need me, call. Even if you just see someone drinking tea, and can't contain your excitement."

            Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a true smile on his face again. "Why would I be excited about seeing someone drink tea?"

            "I don't know. It was the first British thing that came into my head. I'll think of a better one later," I grinned.

            "Okay. I'd better join the search," he said, stretching out his left shoulder as he stood up. "See you later."

 

I noticed every police officer on the way to the hospital, seemingly standing at every other street corner, eyeing the passing crowds, or driving past in their brightly coloured cars and vans. There were so many, though maybe I was just looking for them, seeking out signs of their presence. Were they involved with the search? It was hard to tell. Their eyes certainly flicked in every direction, but then, why wouldn't they?

            Reaching the hospital, I found the boy's room number and climbed the stairs cautiously, wondering what I would find. I came to a halt as I turned a corner and knew immediately which room I was heading for. The hulking figure in black made it painfully obvious. We stared at each other for a second before he looked the other way, sweeping side to side, taking in every movement. Unable to decide what my most prevalent emotion was, I strode forwards. He refocused on me as I approached, and stood up straighter as it became obvious I wasn't looking to walk past him and continue down the hallway.

            "Can I have your name?" he asked, firm but not harsh.

            "Can I see your ID?" I returned. He dug in a pocket and handed over two cards. One was a business card for a private security firm, complete with website, phone number, e-mail address and a list of employees on the back. The other card had the same logo, along with a name, Jon Berns, matching the list, and a picture.

            "Name?" he pushed, as I held them both out for him to take. He reclaimed the ID but waved the business card back towards me.

            "Beth," I said. "Elizabeth. Jones."

            He nodded seriously, pulling out a skinny tablet from another pocket and putting in a code I couldn't see, before scanning down what I guessed to be a list of names. My unease grew. Was one boy worth all this?

            "Date of birth?" Jon grunted.

            "August 15th," I supplied.

            "Thank you," he nodded, jerking his head towards the door.

            I got through the door, closing it behind me before leaning on the wall and taking a shaky breath. Barely sparing a glance for the room, I whipped out my phone and immediately did a search for the company on the card still clutched in my hand. It existed and had apparently done various personal and event security jobs. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. It was fine. They seemed legitimate. Still, I shuddered at the memory of a circle of men in black, and the sensation of fingers squeezing mercilessly on a bullet wound in my shoulder.

            I spent another minute grounding myself before I opened my eyes and took the room in properly. Two large windows with Venetian blinds let in stripes of the late-morning sun, angled so as not to fall on the figure in the bed. Pushing away from the wall, I moved cautiously forwards, looking down at the face that was half-obscured by a breathing tube. He looked even smaller here, though his face was more mature than I remembered, and I guessed him to be perhaps in his mid-teens.

            There were chairs against the wall, beneath the window, and I pulled on out, turning it so that I could see the bed and the door before sitting down. With a jerk, I looked around again. How long had I been sitting there, watching the rise and fall of the boy's chest, in time with the beeping machines? Too long.

            "Not much for conversation, are you?" I said. My phone buzzed in my pocket again, probably what had brought me out of my reverie to start with, and I pulled it out with a sigh.

            _Any change? B._

            I snorted.

            _Nada. Progress on your end?_

            Tapping my fingers against the back of the phone while waiting for his reply, I let my gaze wander again.

            _Nope. This guy is almost as good as hiding as I am. B/P_

            I grinned. I doubted anyone could hide as well as Bucky, and childhood memories of fruitless searching had made it clear that whoever lived in the house knew it best, and thus always won...

            I sat upright. There was something there.

            _Free to call? Ideas._

            I fired off the text instantly, my fingers fumbling with the speed of my typing. My phone began to ring in seconds.

            "Home turf," I said, not bothering with a greeting.

            "Come again?"

            " _Home turf!_ Loki isn't from here. He's not going to know anything about living here or _hiding_ here. It's literally another _world_ ," I elaborated, pacing back and forth before the window. "He's going to slip up, even if it's just by going into a wrong bathroom! Does he even have to use a bathroom? Does he have to eat? He wouldn't know how or where to get food. It's been more than a day, he'd be hungry by now."

            There was a pause, but I could hear Bucky's breathing and chatter in the background.

            "I'll get Steve to check with Thor the second he's back," he said suddenly, his words as rushed as mine. "And I'll see what else we have. Good call." The line went dead.

            I stared out the window for a moment, then went back to pacing. Too many unknowns...

            "Jarvis?" I murmured, lifting my phone up. The screen came to life immediately. "What information do we have on Loki?"

            With a chirrup, the screen was instantly filled with videos, files, datasets, images... Dropping back into the chair, I reminded myself to thank Tony again. Most of the files that were filled with so much jargon that I could barely understand them, but I paused over two images, side by side. One was a capture from New York, inside Stark Tower. Alongside it was a still from a video several days before, in a SHIELD facility. The lighting was terrible, giving Loki a bad case of panda eyes, but I played it anyway. There was no audio, but it quickly became clear that it wasn't just the lighting; Loki looked awful. His face was drawn, his eyes dark and baggy.

            I didn't move as the clip finished, staring down at the floor, trying to remember. Everything had happened so fast outside the funeral, but I thought I knew which image held more likeness to the face I'd seen, and it wasn't the better one.

            I looked back up at the boy on the bed. He wasn't exactly in the peak of health either.

            "Where did you come from?" I muttered, tapping my fingers again. "How did you get caught up in this?"

            Leaning sideways, I watched a green light flickering over one of the displays showing a red line tracking the boy's heart. A red line. Green light.

            I looked around and leapt to my feet, tripping over the chair as I lunged away, barely keeping my feet.

            He was in the room. In the room with me, standing against the wall. I hadn't seen him, hadn't known he was there. He could have done anything... There was another flicker of green light and Loki vanished. He reappeared almost instantly and stayed. He wasn't standing against the wall either. He was leaning on it. And if he'd looked awful in the video I'd seen, he looked even worse now. Bare-footed, hair ragged, eyes bloodshot and still surrounded by their panda circles. He looked one step away from death.

            My phone started to ring.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just watched Avengers again, and when Loki first appears, he does look awful. Like.... awful.  
> Anyway... it's still late. Apologies for typos, hopefully it won't be another 5 months before the next chapter...

**Author's Note:**

> You all know the drill. Writers need an audience. Musicians don't like playing to an empty concert hall, and we don't like writing to ourselves either. I promise that writing a comment, will take less time out of your life than I put in to the chapter you comment on. I promise. So please leave one. And one on the next work you read as well. And maybe even the next. Show your appreciation, and give us all a reason to keep writing, because believe me, 90+% of the time, the audience is the reason we write.


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